Qiwen Silverpaw
Qi, born Qiwen Silverpaw, grew up on the mist-shrouded island of Pandaria as an only child, in the loving arms of her diplomatic parents. Her father Liang was the leader of the Air Caste in the Douku Shao'din, her mother Qiao his support and a high-ranking official. Born into a life of luxury and nobility (despite the teachings that warned against it), Qi was spoiled. Her mother's brother (her uncle) had two children: Zhongni as the eldest, and Enlai as the youngest; and while she was an only child in birth, she never considered herself to be as her cousins were raised right along side her as siblings. It was a clear day in Pandaria, along the coast at a family picnic. They were celebrating, what? Qiwen couldn't recall, her attention focused on the small cakes and iced teas her mother packed that morning. She licked her lips as she sat impatiently in the swishing grass, her cousins chattering away next to her. It didn't matter what they were saying, or even if they were talking to her. All she wanted were those cakes. Her stomach growled and the elders laughed, watching the girl with her internal struggle. She looked up at them, her expression firm. They could wait all they wanted, but she was going to have a cake, and that was that. Her parents, always doting, took Qi along with them to small diplomatic missions across Pandaria. She was fascinated by the different beings, and the cultures each one adopted. While discouraged from doing so, the young pandaren often searched ruins for artifacts that could lead to greater discoveries about past history- though most of the time she wound up with just rocks. She collected them, placing them on a shelf and playing with them, each one it's own character with goals for the future. Though young, the rocks became the driving force of the girl's considerations for her own future. In her spare time, when not playing around in the dirt, her mother encouraged embroidery as a noble pass time. Invigorated at the new challenge, Qiwen delved into fine silks and cloth with her needle, stitching patterns into the hems of her parents clothing. This new pass time, as Qi later recalled, was merely a simple plan to redirect her attention to something deemed better by her mother. This new tactic, redirection, was something Qiwen would test on her cousins, often switching their attention from one thing to another without a second thought. She was pleased at the discovery and began to refine what would be her best skill-set: manipulation. At around age 50, Qiwen was skipping along a road when she saw a pandaren meditating under the shade of the tree. She watched a few moments before walking over and setting herself down next to him, mimicking his breathing and closed eyes. There the two sat as complete strangers, but the same person, for hours that warm summer day. As the stranger rustled from his position, Qi opened her eyes and began asking question after question, the other answering all with practised ease. Names were never exchanged, though the two quickly became close as the other agreed to train the eager young Qiwen. Having grown up in a pampered life, Qi struggled to keep up with the training at first. Her unnamed master pushed the girl hard, and the results, though slow to come, were as clear as the Kun-Lai Summit on a cloudless day. Her muscles hardened under the soft fur, her actions carefully considered before engaging. She became as fast as the coursing river, her punches and kicks as strong as a great typhoon, her will and determination as strong as a raging fire, and her tactics as mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Beads of sweat ran down her face as the sun beat down on the young pandaren as she punched, kicked, and dodged while sparring with her master. Her threw a punch to her right side, she pivoted on her left foot to swing back, momentum taking hold, as she ducked and swept her free foot, causing her companion to jump up and flip back. She spun back up and noticed with pleasure the look of surprise on her masters face. She took the free moment to wipe sweat from her forehead and grinned as the unnamed pandaren came charging back to continue what had become a duel. It was only when her master stopped showing did Qi experience fear for the first time in her relatively short life. Having known almost nothing about him, nor he about her, the search she began ended shortly after in disappointment. She missed the companionship desperatly, and was then eager to teach her young cousin, Enlai, when he approached her asking for help. The two sparred (gently, this time), spoke about philosophies, and meditated together in secret from the rest of Enlai's family. When not attending her duties as assistant to her father, or spending time with her young cousin, Qi sought out Zhongni and discussed the arts. The older cousin was well-versed in philosophy, calligraphy, and the kinds of education she took for granted when she was younger. She asked many questions as her knowledge-base grew, answering his in return about the diplomatic world. The two quickly realized how well they worked together, and decided to pool their resources to start hosting parties for the Shao'din and their friends. Spring was the perfect time of year for garden parties: flowers blooming, blue skies, and it just smelled so good! Qi stood in a group with two other people who chatting about poetry, a mug of Rootpaw Radish Brew in her hand. It was horrid stuff, but unfortunately, it was the first drink she was handed and was stuck with it. The music played, a live band on a small make-shift stage as paper lanterns lit the venue of which the event was held. Qi smiled faintly to herself as she watched the sun set over the mountains, casting the soiree into a mysterious shadow. A few pandaren clapped their approval just as Zhongni caught her eye from across the venue. She grinned, winked, and held up her drink in a toast, the rest of the pandaren raising their mugs to the star-filled sky. Life continued for many years, her father finally deciding to train a young protege to take over his position as air caste leader. Qi got along with the pandaren fine, but she felt his skills were severely lacking in diplomatic finesse. When she voiced her opinion to her father, he lectured her on patience, and that she must not judge a person on age nor apparent ability. Frowning, she left to speak to Zhongni about the situation. The two spoke about the pandaren, and how the child, no older than Qiwen herself, would run the caste into the ground. Zhongni was the obvious choice for the cast, and she told him as much. The two cousins spoke much of the subject, until one day, Qiwen's father was found dead, throat cut, in his home. His protegee was not ready to take over the caste, and through Qi's persuasion, Zhongni took his place. Her mother did nothing those days after her husband's death but mourn quietly in her home, alone, and in the dark. Torn between helping her mother cope and lending her assistance to her cousin, the next few years of her life were busy. It was winter and snow was gently cascading from the heavens, almost as if a sign. There was a large group of pandaren dressed in black - a striking contrast to the white of the ground, surrounding an equally black coffin containing the remains of Qiwen's father. Her mother stood apart, arms wrapped around herself and her eyes distant as the funeral took place to honour the life of her husband. It was quiet, even as funerals went, the snow muffling the words of the officiant as he spoke. Qi stood beside Zhongni as his assistant, head down and arm around Enlai, the younger cousin, for comfort as he sobbed quietly. Zhongni shifted and Qi looked up to meet his eyes. In that moment, they understood the wieght of what had happened, and that they were in it together for the long run. The growing dissent between Lidun and his brother, who were co-leading the Shao'din at the time, finally cracked at the introduction of the Horde and Alliance. Lidun, Qi's favorite of the brothers, was joining the Horde, while the other with the Alliance. The decision to become a member of the Horde was not a difficult one, though her did regret leaving her mother on Pandaria alone. The elder pandaren did not wish to join either, and was content living out what was left of her life as she had before. Together with Zhongni, Qi and her cousin left Pandaria to lead the Air Caste of the Shieldpaw Shao'din: pandaren representatives of their new allies, the Horde. more to come! <3